


Extremes

by mackielars



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gen, Heavy Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24862879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mackielars/pseuds/mackielars
Summary: Shane feels like he is never enough, but always too much. Life constantly weighed heavy on him no matter how much he tries to better himself. The inability to control his own life was an endless toil... so he turns to the one thing that he could control: when and how much he drinks.
Relationships: Shane/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Shane/Male Player (Stardew Valley), Shane/Player (Stardew Valley)
Kudos: 14





	Extremes

Shane had always known that he was two things in life: _too_ much, and _too_ little.

He was too much of a brat to be handled by his parents, too ambitious to stay in a good job, too stupid to stop partying, and then too oblivious to realize that he was about to lose that one good thing to ever happen in his life. Now, he is too unprepared for this unfamiliar change that was happening… and he felt _too_ fucked up to deserve something so precious, so meaningful. It pains him that, in the end, he was always too little to change things. He could never be enough.

That’s why he drinks.

He drinks because there was certainty on what was too much or too little.

That was until a smaller but rougher hand held his own, telling him when he was drinking too much, _too quickly,_ made him stop mid-swallow. A surge of alcohol-fueled anger made his shoulders, arms, and fists tense in anger, shaking him to lucidity.

“Y- how… dare yew,” he slurred loudly, indignant at whoever pulled him from the throes of his memories.

A worried face eventually appeared in his foggy vision. He struggled for recognition and the ambiguity unnerved him.

“Shane, _please_ ,” the face pleaded.

Suddenly the fog started to lift and along came the music from the jukebox. The familiar crackle and heat of the fireplace next to him made his hair stand on end, and the warm yellow glow of the sconces that contrasted with the red-tinted decor of the saloon came into clarity. Finally, he recognized the face that seized him from his thoughts: it was the Farmer’s. They look so small and frail staring at him with concern in their eyes.

It disgusted him. It seemed too similar to pity.

Shane looked away from them in discomfort, and grit his teeth out of habit.

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled, then tightened his grip on his mug to give the remaining third a final tilt down his throat.

The farmer remained in their spot.

“Fuck off, Farmer,” he growled before slamming his mug down on the counter with an audible thud. He quickly fished out a few bills from his wallet and hastily placed them on the counter as payment. He wanted nothing more than to vanish from this moment even if he was leaving far earlier than expected. Privacy sounded better anyway.

With a mumbled thanks to no one in particular, he pushed past the Farmer and begrudgingly exited the Stardrop Saloon with a sway in his steps and a large cloud of annoyance still looming above him.

“Hey, wait!”

Shane ignored the voice that followed him outside. He was still recovering from his outburst, and he didn’t want to let some goody-two-shoes ruin what little buzz he managed to earn. Whatever they were saying would just have to wait until he got home. Or maybe… tomorrow. Or if he’s especially lucky, they would vanish altogether and he wouldn’t have to confront them at all.

He was not sure what the Farmer wanted to prove with that little stunt of theirs. But he is sure that two shots of whiskey and a beer is not enough for tonight.

He walked back to Marnie’s with the crisp evening breeze cooling his temper and a comforting silence surrounded him and eased his mood. The crunch of wayward leaves beneath his feet and the quiet rustling of the nearing forests somehow helped the corners of his lips twitch up to form an unfamiliar expression. His thoughts moseyed onto the amber temptress calling for him from the crevices of his room. She seemed to be begging him to release her from her glass prison. So if he was enough for her, then who was he to say no?


End file.
